


Some People Don't Hurry

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Graduation kiss, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Pantheon of Gods, Supernatural Elements, god powers, time lapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eric Bittle has always felt apart, like he was destined for something bigger--and he always assumed everyone felt that way.  Little did he know he was different, and little did he know a place called the Haus collected people just like him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the thing--I binge-watched The Almighty Johnsons and kind of loved the idea of it, but also the show was awful because it was low-key racist and homophobic as hell. But the idea of people being the living embodiment of gods was intriguing and I thought it would be fun to write as SMH. Basically this is me procrastinating and also rewarding myself for finishing a massive analysis paper. There will be a part 2, which should be up by like...possibly tomorrow.
> 
> Things you should know--only certain people can embody a god--it has to be in your family line, and you come into your "full god powers" when you turn 21, but you show signs and have bits of power before then. This is probably an absurd idea but... *shrug* I love this sort of stuff with paranormal elements so...indulge me, if you will.
> 
> Some lines are taken directly from canon, and most of the canon events are the same--though some have been embellished a little to fit the AU plot.

winter came by my bedroom today  
falling in rows and covering the lane  
morning shone on my windows today  
passing the time I slumber away  
to kill all the day  
-The Cardigans

*** 

Eric never thought much about the way he felt when he was growing up. The ache inside him which told him he was destined for greater things, better things, seemed frivolous. His love of outdoors, sunshine and bright things—alive things—seemed normal enough. He supposed everyone felt that way—everyone is the hero of their own story, his momma used to tell him whenever he’d whisper at night that he just felt wrong, like he was meant to be somewhere else—somewhere bigger. She’d kiss his forehead and tell him it was alright, and that everyone felt that way from time to time.

So he didn’t think much of it. And he went about his day, creating things, living.

He couldn’t pretend like he didn’t see the looks his parents gave him, or the panic in their eyes when he told them he’d be going away for College where he’d be on his own, but eventually they relented. And though he couldn’t pretend like the conversation he’d over heard wasn’t strange…

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, but he’ll be here for his twenty-first birthday, and he’ll graduate soon after. It’ll be alright, sweetheart. He’ll be home before anything strange kicks in.”

“I just don’t like the way that school’s been courting him. Makes me think there might be…”

“Don’t,” Suzanne begged. “I can’t think of that now. Nothing will happen. He’ll be fine.”

Eric tucked that conversation deep into his mind, packed for Samwell, and said goodbye to the life he’d known.

*** 

He expected it to be easier, he truly did. Joining the hockey team was going to be a challenge, and the look his Captain gave him on and off the ice was enough to freeze his blood—and strangely almost felt like it did sometimes—but everyone warmed to him, and loved his pies, and he felt…welcome. Like he was in a house of family instead of strangers.

“Dibs,” Johnson said to him once, and pat him on the shoulder. “Always has to happen this way, and you belong here, you know? Narrative might have changed, but the end-game will always be the same. Good luck, Frey.”

Bitty blinked at the name, and assumed it was some sort of goalie slang for bud or dude. Whatever. He shook Johnson’s hand and pretended like he didn’t see the strange, conflicting expression on Jack’s face as Bitty let the team know it would be him and them, all next year.

*** 

Bitty didn’t notice anything stranger than usual. Not straight away. Walking up to the haus, finding Holster crouched over a dead bird wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. At least, not unless he really gave it some thought, but every time he tried to, something in his brain just sort of…switched off.

Holster seemed even lower than usual, though. Sat on the haus porch with his feet dangling off the edge. A few feet away was a sparrow, a circle of rocks round the body. “Did you do that?” Bitty asked, coming to sit beside him. The rocks?”

Holster looked up at him, then smiled and nudged him. “Weird that we’d be such good friends, right Bits?”

Bitty blinked. “I know y’all love to chirp me, but I’m not that hard to get along with, you know.”

Holster’s smile didn’t falter. “You’re kind of like…the best of us, you know. When are you twenty-one?”

“Next year,” Bitty said. The chilly breeze picked up, and he laughed as the leaves on the tree rustled and the winter sun fell on his cheeks. “I can’t wait til it warms up properly.”

“Don’t let Jack hear you say that,” Holster chirped.

Bitty snorted, then jumped up and knelt beside the bird. “Are you sure it’s dead?” He didn’t know why he was doing it, why he bothered, but he let his hand hover over the bird’s chest, and felt a strange, tingling vibration in his fingertips.

After a moment, the wings fluttered, then shooting up like a rocket, the bird took flight, over the trees and off into the distance. Startled, Bitty fell back on his ass and glanced up at Holster who was shaking his head. 

“Like I said, strange. But I kind of like it. I better get going, I have an econ test to prep for and I feel like crawling into a cave and never coming out if I think about numbers for too long.”

Then he was gone, and Bitty stayed sat on a snow-free patch of grass until Jack arrived from his last lecture. He had softened toward Bitty over the last year, but things were tense. He had hockey to think about—the NHL, and contracts, and location. It made Bitty ache somewhere deep in his belly knowing that he’d be losing half the haus soon enough and well…he didn’t like the idea of people just going away.

“Bittle. Trying to catch a tan already?”

“Chirp, chirp, Mr Zimmermann. Not all of us here on planet earth want to bring in another ice-age.”

There was a moment where something—unreadable, but definitely _there_ \--flickered across Jack’s face. Then he softened, walked over, and offered Bitty a hand up. “Come on. Pies aren’t going to cook themselves, eh?”

“Bake, Jack. The term is bake,” Bitty said, but couldn’t get rid of his smile, or the rushing warmth, in spite of Jack’s fingers which were always, always icy.

*** 

“Hey Zimms, didja miss me?”

Of course Bitty knew who Kent Parson was, and in his abstract way he knew Jack knew him. He knew Jack’s history with Kent, and the Q, and how Parse would have at least had some contact with Jack after his over-dose and the incident with the draft. But seeing him there, in their haus well…

There was something about Kent—warm, but not the friendly sort of warm. The threatening kind, and it made Bitty’s skin crawl. And the way Kent was so sweet, and so charming, but there was fire in his eyes that made him look dangerous.

Later, when Bitty leant against the wall and watched Shitty work his “magic” on the tub-juice, he couldn’t help but ask. “I just have to wonder why Parse has such an effect on Jack.”

“Aeons old rivalry, in a way. Kent did Jack dirty a long time ago, Bits. Over a thousand lifetimes, and I don’t really see it changing.”

“Lord have mercy, you’re startin’ to sound just like Johnson,” Bitty said, and glanced into his red solo cup. “Maybe I’m just drunk.”

“I’d lay off the tub juice the rest of the night,” Shitty said with a wink. When Bitty hopped off the railing, Shitty reached for his arm. “Not everyone has to follow their path. It’s just…like a guide, you know? If you embrace your nature, you can write your own story. But when it comes to Jack and Kent—when they do embrace their nature, it never ends well. Not for them together. I think Jack needs to remember that.”

Bitty wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he felt like maybe he was getting places when he found himself kneeling in front of Jack’s door, watching the fire in Kent’s eyes, and the venom dripping from his lips like a snake, and Jack’s fingers shaking. And being drunk, Bitty was able to forget the strange moment when he swore there was snow falling in the middle of the hallway.

*** 

“There’s no way the pond’s going to be frozen enough for shinny,” Bitty complained as they trudged through the last vestiges of winter snow. It was a particularly cold day for March—but not cold enough Bitty felt safe with giant hockey players tearing up the ice. The pond wasn’t deep, but that didn’t mean hypothermia couldn’t kick in if anyone fell through.

“I think we’re going to be fine,” Jack said with a tiny grin.

Bitty wanted to argue that Jack couldn’t possibly _know_ the ice was safe, but for whatever reason, he trusted him, and none of the team seemed worried. He lagged behind, watching Jack take the lead, watching him approach the pond and lay a bare hand to the ice. And Bitty might have heard a shuffling noise, like ice going solid, but that would be silly now, wouldn’t it?

So instead he tightened his scarf round his neck, and laced up his skates, and did a few jumps to the delight of his team. He loved nothing more than getting air, than feeling sun on his face, and wind on his cheeks. It made him feel _alive_. And when he landed, he saw Jack smiling to himself as he taped his stick, his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Um. Jack…can we? Talk?”

Jack glanced up. “Sure, Bittle. Nice jump, by the way. They get you for the Swallow?”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Lord, not today, thank goodness. I just um…well I just wanted to say that I hope you’re alright. I know right before we left things weren’t…well with Parse um…”

Jack’s face darkened, and he let out a sigh. “Things between me and Parse will always be complicated, and sometimes I let him get to me. On some level, we both owe each other apologies, and sometimes he just…can’t help himself. It’s in his nature.”

“Shitty said something like that,” Bitty murmured quietly.

Jack’s gaze looked up, sharp and intense. “Did he?” It came out almost like a threat.

“It’s just…I was worried that night, so we talked. But I kind of get it. He was goin’ on about embracing your nature, and how you can carve out your own destiny once you do that or…something.” Bitty laughed, even if Jack wasn’t entirely smiling.

“Well it’s not…as simple as that,” Jack began.

Bitty sighed. “Oh I know it. I mean…” He gave a slightly self-deprecating laugh. “Telling a gay boy from Georgia who likes to figure skate and bake pies that he can embrace who he is _and_ create his own destiny is…” He shrugged. “That’s the sort of thing that lets gay boys who like to figure skate and bake pies get locked up in storage closets overnight.”

Jack’s face went blank, and for a second, the air around them went frigid. But Jack breathed out, and the sun’s rays warmed them again, and Bitty didn’t think much on it. “Sometimes Shitty gets ahead of himself,” was all Jack said.

Bitty shrugged. “Yeah, but he also means well.”

There was a pause, then Jack smiled and said, “Maybe I can buy you one of those pumpkin things you like so much. At Annie’s. I owe you for the cookies.”

Bitty reached over, dropping his hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezing. “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me a thing. But all the same, I’d never turn down a PSL.”

*** 

And so it went, and Bitty didn’t think anything was going to change. Even in the drifting afternoon light in the kitchen as he watched Jack talk, and realised his heart was thumping because he was falling madly in love and there was nothing he could do about it. But he was content just knowing Jack, just letting that warmth fill his chest knowing that the man next to him cared for him, but not like _that_ and would always be unattainable.

In the quiet, painful moments he admitted it. To the anonymous names on the internet watching his blog, whispered into the ear of his precious bun who held all his secrets. But mostly…he was fine.

*** 

“I didn’t think it would be so cold up here.”

The words slipped out before he really thought about them, and then the jacket landed on his shoulders before he could even react. Jack’s big, strong hands pushed and pulled until Bitty shoved his arms into the sleeves, then he settled beside Bitty near the fire, but not too near.

Bitty glanced at him, cheeks pink-flushed and tingling a little when Jack’s knee knocked into his. “How is it you’re never cold?”

Jack laughed, letting his arms loosely dangle atop his thighs. “I’m always cold, Bittle.”

“That’s no mother-fucking joke. Have I told you about the time…”

Shitty rambled and Bitty half-listened, but mostly he thought about it. It was a little strange. Jack was cold a lot, but in the strangest moments. When they were in the haus, and Jack was bundled in a sweater and jeans, and a few times in the late spring when Jack would work with Bitty in the kitchen, he’d wear gloves until he needed his bare hands.

But there were also moments like this. Moments when Jack was sat up on the roof in the middle of a chilly night with only the fire, and perfectly content to sit under the stars with the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his elbows, and he didn’t seem to notice. Or late, late night walks when Bitty would catch him sneaking back into the haus with skates slung over his shoulder, and nothing more than a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

It was like his brain was trying to grasp something just outside of its reach, like if he just pushed hard enough he’d…get it. The same way he felt when he’d sit by his momma’s garden and watch as plants seemed to grow before his very eyes. Or the way sometimes birds lying dead on the lawn would flutter back to life and take to the skies.

It meant…something.

“…Bittle.”

Bitty blinked, then realised the fire was nearly out, and he and Jack were alone. He sat up straight when he noticed he’d slumped against Jack’s side, but Jack didn’t pull away then. His arm remained pressed against the small of Bitty’s back, like a ballast.

“I didn’t mean to drift off.”

“I know,” Jack said, his voice quiet, carrying across the night breeze. “You looked peaceful.”

Bitty laughed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I was able to forget for a moment that y’all are leaving in a few days and everything’s changing. I don’t know what it’s going to be like without you…and—and Shitty in the haus.”

Jack gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll adjust. That’s the thing about the haus. It’s like it dies, and is reborn every autumn. New frogs, new players, new life. It becomes a home all over again, to those who need it.”

Bitty had never heard Jack talk like that, and it sent a shiver up his spine, but not in a bad way. He stamped down hard on the urge to turn his face, to kiss him. “Will your new place be like that? In Providence? Born into a home for you?”

“I don’t know what it’ll be like,” Jack said, a little breathy and soft. “I…I’m scared too, you know? Because I felt lost for a long time, but coming here grounded me. I don’t want to feel like I’m free-floating again. Alone.”

“Oh Jack,” Bitty said, and didn’t stop himself when he shuffled closer, letting himself curl into Jack almost like he’d done when they’d lost the playoffs, only this time it was Jack holding him. “You’ll never be alone. It’s not like me’n the guys are going anywhere. I know for one Shitty won’t be able to function without at least three or four sleeps a semester, naked in your bed.”

Jack’s shoulders shook with laughter, held quiet in his chest, just a little huff out of his nose. “True. I…you’ll come visit me though, right?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Bitty said, then yawned. “Lordy, we should get home.” He tried to ignore the swooping in his gut as Jack lifted him gingerly under the arms, and steadied him before putting the fire out. 

They kept close as they headed for the street, the block quieter and more empty than it had been all term, and Bitty again felt that oppressive sadness that everything was changing. As natural as it was, never in his life would he miss something so much.

“You’re twenty one next year,” Jack mused as they shuffled toward the haus.

Bitty blinked. Jack wasn’t the first person in the haus to mention it. In fact, most of the team had been a little fixated on it, particularly Rans, Holster, and Lardo. But he just reckoned they were planning some sort of mad-bash for him since twenty-one was supposed to be a big deal—even if he had been getting up to all the things he shouldn’t have been, since he’d arrived at Samwell.

“Yeah, seems like I am. The big two-one. Though to be honest, it doesn’t feel that big.” Bitty shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to ignore how that felt like a lie. Drinking wasn’t part of it, he knew that. But he felt like all he had to do was peer round the corner and he’d find out what it was that was making him feel so…

Strange.

“You know when I was younger,” Bitty said, and unconsciously slowed his pace as they saw the haus come into view, “I used to get this weird feeling in my belly. Like…” He hesitated, and Jack cleared his throat.

“A little like you’re the terrified orphan who suddenly finds out you’re royalty in some Disney movie?” Jack offered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks dark with a blush. “Like you belong somewhere else—anywhere else—with people who understand you? Even if you’re not…necessarily unhappy.”

“Yes,” Bitty breathed, then laughed a little, shaking his head at himself. “I knew everyone felt that way but…”

“No, Bits,” Jack said, touching Bitty’s shoulder just briefly as they approached the front porch of the haus. “Not everyone feels that way.”

*** 

And then Graduation happened.

Bitty knew it was coming, had the entire year to prepare for what life was going to be like living without the people he relied on, the people he felt were _family_. But it snuck up on him, clobbering him over the head until he was a hot mess of emotions and barely-restrained tears. And he managed a smile, and managed to keep himself mostly together as they posed for photos and talked shop about what it would be like for Jack to move to Providence, and what Grad School would feel like for Shitty.

He was in love with Jack, that much he knew. He’d fought it so damn hard over the last few months, but there was no helping it now. It was an immovable force, consuming him, and he knew that he’d either have to never speak to Jack again and hoped it faded, or just live with the ache in his gut.

The words though, bubbled on his tongue for a moment when he and Jack exchanged their final goodbye. And his hands tingled as he hugged Jack, and straightened his tie, and fought the urge to just rise on his toes and kiss this ridiculous man. “I suppose the next time I see you will be on TV.”

And the look on Jack’s face, startled and maybe a little hurt as he curled his fingers round Bitty’s wrist. They were cold—always so cold, in spite of the heat, and Bitty wanted to crawl under Jack’s robes and press his body against Jack’s. “Bits…I’ll see you before then. I’m not going to disappear on you. I swear.”

There was some relief to know that, but not enough to stop the tears as Bitty turned and ran. If he’d hesitated for a moment—and maybe if he spoke French—he might have realised what was coming. And it might have made him pause because a whole damn lot of his life would have made sense, but it wasn’t Bitty’s time to know…not just yet.

*** 

“Jack. I know that face. What’s wrong?”

Jack turned to his father, his shoulders sagging. “I…feel strange. Like I didn’t get to…say goodbye the way I wanted to.”

Bob chuckled, drawing Jack in close, and Jack revelled in feeling his own nature mirrored in Bob. It used to feel so oppressive, so suffocating knowing he would be like this forever but…now it was a comfort. “There’s not really time to take a last lap round the rink, Jack.”

“No not…” Jack swallowed, his eyes following the fast line Bitty had made, away from the crowds, and he was aware of Bob realising it. “It’s not right. He’s not…we’re not meant to be…” Jack swallowed. “He’s summer, papa.”

Bob let out a breath. “And your mother is a human, Jack. And I’ve never loved someone so much in my entire life.”

“He’s not twenty-one yet. He’s not even sure who he is…what he is.” Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, and when he breathed out, he could see the steam, telling him he was losing control of his emotions. “It’s not even up to me to…to tell him what he is. He doesn’t know about me. About any of us.” Jack’s eyes swept through the crowd, landing on Shitty and Lardo, on Rans and Holster who had not just become his friends—but his family. Before it had been Bob, and it had been Kent, and that was all Jack had ever known about being a god. But now…

“I think you should go say goodbye. Really say good bye…” Bob pressed, then trailed off. “You know what your uncle Wayne would say…”

Jack snorted, rolling his eyes. “Uncle Wayne wasn’t a winter god falling in love with summer,” Jack blurted, then his knees went weak because saying it aloud was just…so much.

Bob grabbed Jack’s elbow tightly. “Go, son. Whatever will happen…will happen. But stop denying yourself the chance to be happy just because one terrible incident repeated itself. It doesn’t all need to end in tragedy.”

Apparently…that promise was just enough.

*** 

Bitty became profoundly aware of just how cold Jack was when he was being kissed. Like Jack had been eating ice cream or chewing ice, but it was weirdly satisfying. Like pouring cold water on a hot pan. His hands curled into the front of Jack’s shirt, and Jack was holding his face tight and possessive, and their lips did a delicate push-pull dance, not wanting to go too deep so soon, but not wanting to let go.

And then…

Then it was over.

Then Jack’s phone was buzzing and he was backing away with a promise to text, and that promise held a thousand other promises of soon, and not over, and there will be more. That was the only thing that held Bitty together as he backed into a chair, and stared down at his phone to read the text which buzzed through just seconds after Jack was out the front door.

**I’m sorry for kissing you like that. But I’m not sorry for kissing you. Can we talk tonight?**

**I miss you already.**

Bitty’s fingers shook as he tapped out a reply, and his cheeks ached because this southern gay boy who liked figure skating and baking, and might always live a life half in the closet, suddenly had his happy ending. Or at least the promise of one.

And that was plenty enough to get him through the long ride home.

*** 

“Jack.” His name came out breathy and soft as Bitty shoved his face against his pillow. Every fibre of his being ached for Jack to be near enough to touch, and knowing months and miles spanned the distance between them ached. But also knowing there was something more now, the promise of future, made the ache hurt a little less. “You made it alright?”

“Yeah, Bits,” Jack said, his voice just as soft, sweeter than usual, and warmer than usual. “I’m at my parents’. How was your flight?”

Bitty launched into nonsensical chatter about his flight, about the toddler that kept making faces at him, about how his mother was excited to have him come “work his magic” on her garden for the months he’d be back. “I’ve always had a green thumb,” Bitty said into the quiet between them.

There was a pause, then Jack chuckled. “I’m not surprised. When you…” He stopped. “I miss it. Your warmth.”

“And lord help me, but I miss those cold hands and feet of yours. You ever come here to visit, you’re gonna melt, honey.”

Jack laughed again, the sound rich and gorgeous. “I think I’ll be alright. But would you…would you like that, Bits? Me coming to visit?”

Bitty went hot in his cheeks, mottled pink and burning, and he pressed the back of his hand against his left one. “Lord, sweetheart, I don’t think there’s anything I’d like more. And momma and Coach keep pestering me about havin’ friends over for the fourth? If your delicate Canadian sensibilities can handle a real, American fourth of July…”

“Haha,” Jack laughed quietly. “I think I can handle that, too. As long as I get to see you.”

And my god if Bitty hadn’t already been head over heels for this man, that might have done it right there. His insides were squirming and burning and aching to be near him again. “So you really will? Come see me, that is?”

There was a smile in Jack’s voice when he said very quietly, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

*** 

In hindsight, Bitty didn’t think Jack meant to tell him. Not straight away, because it wasn’t his place. His moomaw would have taken him aside a few months before his birthday—right when things started to get a little dodgy, and she would have confessed everything. Godly blood in their family line. It skipped a lot of generations, but they were always spring or summer deities. They were life, and growth, and fertility, and they were almost always women, and moomaw wouldn’t have thought it would be Eric at all, had it not been for her watching him pull a carrot straight from the earth to feed to a wild bun that had hopped along six year old Eric’s path.

But things didn’t always happen the way they were meant to.

Like Winter falling in love with Summer, and like Hod surviving the aftermath of Loki when so often, in so many lifetimes, he didn’t.

They took the truck down to the lake on the fifth to swim and cool off. Bitty spent most of his time worried how Jack—who was terribly unacclimated to the heat—would fare in the weather. Jack seemed alright, and was still strangely cool every time Bitty was able to get his hands on Jack’s bare skin.

Bitty knew all the secret places, where they could park the truck, and hike a little it, and take a dip in the cool water near an alcove only the locals went to—but most of them were too hungover to leave their beds that day. So they were alone, and waist-deep, with Jack’s hands _all over_ Bitty like he was starving for his touch.

And Bitty wasn’t about to stop him, because for the first time ever, Bitty could touch, and taste, and feel unrestrained, without prying eyes or fear. Jack crowded him up against the side of the wooden dock, and had his hands on Bitty’s face, and their hips grinding together.

Then Bitty tried to move sideways because the water was strangely cold, and he felt something…crack. He pulled back from Jack’s face and looked down and when he saw a thin layer of ice slowly melting away on the top of the water, he knew.

Something was different, something he’d always known, but had never really let himself accept or understand it. But now it was staring him in the face, and Jack looked _mortified_ and a little terrified as he stepped back, the water sloshing around him, still getting colder, still sending tendrils of ice along the surface.

Bitty said nothing. There was nothing to say. But he felt some sort of immense relief as he waded toward the shore, and walked out toward their towels spread along the beach. There was more rocks than sand, but the warmth was comforting as he settled down and felt the hot sun began to prickle along his skin in a way that eased him into a feeling of safety rather than fear.

“Bits…” Jack was hesitant, hovering near the edge of his towel, but the look on Bitty’s face must have calmed him enough, because though his hands were still shaking, he managed to sit, knees touching.

“I think on some level, I knew,” Bitty said, flopping back, then rolling onto his side to look at Jack. He fumbled for his shades, then pushed them up over his nose. “There was always something different. About all y’all. And me. And I never fit anywhere before the haus but…” He swallowed, then asked the question that had been burning for two years now. “What are you?”

Jack took a breath, tipping his head up toward the blue, _blue_ sky, and closed his eyes. “I’m not sure. There’s about a thousand different words in a thousand different languages. Spirits, fae, gods, elements. I don’t…I can’t say I understand our nature, or how we came to be this way, and there are dozens of mythos on the how, and the why we came to be…like this.” Jack dragged his hand along the rocks, and Bitty watched as they covered with ice before cracking, then melting in the heat.

“Was it always like that?”

“No,” Jack said. “Not always. Not fully. Until my twenty-first birthday.”

Bitty let out a laugh that was more sigh than anything, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Right. Which is why y’all kept asking. Did you…always know?”

“I think we all were able to confirm it in different ways, different times.”

Bitty thought of the bird in the front yard that winter with Holster, and the surprise Holster felt when they got along so well. He thought of the relative ease he existed with Ransom, like the way they fell in step with each other, and how they could read each other without really trying. He thoughts of a thousand strange things each member of the haus did or said and it just sort of clicked.

He should be terrified, but instead he was just relieved.

“Who am I?”

“I don’t know. I think…maybe Frey,” Jack said quietly. “God of summer, and life, and prosperity. Depending on which myths you read,” he added with a tiny quirk of his lips.

“And you’re…winter?” Bitty asked.

Jack swallowed thickly. “Hod. The blind god.”

Bitty cocked his head to the side. “You’re…not though, are you?”

Jack laughed. “No. But it’s complicated. I don’t…talking about it is hard sometimes. Because Parse…” His voice got tight, and Bitty found himself reaching for Jack, letting the warmth of his hands temper with the coldness of Jack’s, and it felt balancing, and right. Jack’s breath still trembled, but the shaking in his fingers calmed. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Bitty blurted out, like he couldn’t stop himself even if he had tried. Which he hadn’t. He pushed up, and went to his knees, and cupped Jack’s face. “I know it hasn’t been…I mean for us, it hasn’t been that long but…” He swallowed and let his thumbs run along Jack’s cheekbones, and his sigh was content, happy when Jack’s hands landed on his hips, and drew him closer. “I’ve been fallin’ for you now for dang near a full year and I just…thought you should know.”

Jack kissed him, and whispered a quiet, “I love you,” against his mouth. It was confusing, and yeah it actually was a little terrifying. But he wasn’t alone, and because of that, Bitty knew he was going to be alright.

*** 

In the garden, Bitty’s fingers hovered over a small sunflower that just didn’t seem to want to reach as high as the others. He felt the tingle in his hands, the urging of the earth to give just a little bit more. “Momma?” Bitty looked over to where his mother was gently weeding round her pepper plants.

“Yes, Dicky?”

This, he decided, was harder than coming out as gay. Harder than telling his parents he was in love with an NHL star, who also happened to be the god of winter. Maybe it was because deep down, Bitty knew he was obvious and as deep in denial as his parents could—and would—be, their subconscious would have had to at least suspect he wasn’t ever going to bring home a nice girl.

“Did you know? That um…” He bit his lip, glancing up at the bright sky. “That I’m different.”

Suzanne dropped her trowel and turned toward him, hands on her thighs. “Sweetheart?”

“Like how I can…make things grow? How I’m real good in the garden, and I’m always warm, and that I’m _different_.”

“Oh,” Suzanne breathed.

“Are you…momma are you…”

She shook her head. “No, sweetheart. Your moomaw thought I might…but then I turned twenty-one and well…” She trailed off and shrugged. “We knew. Since you were a baby, we…knew. But it was up to her to tell you.”

Bitty nodded, gnawing on his lip. “I’ll go see her this week.”

“How did you…who said?” Suzanne stammered.

Bitty held Jack’s secret close to his chest. “Some of the boys on the team are…” He stopped, not wanting to give it all away, because he was still processing. How Ransom was Apollo, and somehow fell in love with Hades, and how Lardo was Bastet which, after googling, just made _so much sense_. And how Jack was pretty sure Chowder was some sort of God of wisdom, or maybe an oracle, but they’d have to wait a few more years to find out.

And Shitty. Dionysus, and Bitty had laughed five straight minutes because nothing in life had ever been that fitting before.

Bitty let out another breath, and went back to the sunflower, urging it upward, bigger, brighter. It obeyed, sluggish and slow, but not as reluctant as it was before. “Does Coach know?”

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Suzanne said, with that tone of voice that said Coach would just shut down the conversation and pretend like it had never happened.

Bitty, again, felt like an outsider. Only this time he knew he had somewhere to go. Somewhere he belonged.

*** 

Bitty couldn’t help the tiny giggle when he realised how nervous Jack was. He stood in the centre of the living room with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, and this way about him that read, “Well, this is it,” like somehow it wouldn’t be okay if Bitty didn’t like it.

So he took pity on his boyfriend and grabbed him by the waist and rose on his toes to kiss him. “I love it. I love it so much.”

And the truth was, he did. Because Jack had gone to obvious and incredible trouble to make it looked like home for Bitty. To make it warm, with deep oranges, reds, and yellows. With paintings done by Lardo of the sunset over the quad, and photos of the afternoon light shining over the ice at Faber.

Obviously Jack hadn’t worked alone, and Bitty had to wonder just what he told his parents when they went shopping because none of this was really Jack.

Of course, none of that mattered right now. Not when Jack was crowding him up against the sofa, with cold fingers in his hair, leaving icy pecks across his cheeks which Bitty swore had steam coming off them. And Lord when Jack took him into his mouth, the sensation was overwhelming and had him damn-near sobbing into the throw pillow as he struggled to keep his hips from moving too much as Jack swallowed him down, and drew the orgasm out, and out, and out.

Later, far later than they really intended to be awake, they were curled up on a nest of pillows and blankets. The TV was running some Netflix show, one episode into the next, with the sound almost all the way down. Bitty was lying with his head in the crook of Jack’s shoulder, and Jack’s fingers were in his hair, drawing chilly lines along his scalp.

“Are you ever warm?” Bitty asked.

Jack hesitated, then said, “When I’m with you. I hadn’t…when we were doing checking practise is when I first noticed it. It was…it was a lot. It had been a long time since I’d felt that way.”

Bitty turned his face a little, to press hot kisses along Jack’s neck. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Jack said simply.

Bitty toyed with the hem of Jack’s over-worn, soft t-shirt, rolling the edge between his fingers, then letting it unravel. “Can you…I mean, my moomaw told me what to expect. When it was her. It was just…a lot of chaos, then it got better. Was it like that? For you?”

“I think I took it harder than most people, but it started really early for me. I was cold, and felt so empty and scared. My parents…they knew, but they thought I might be okay with the meds. And they worked for a little while but…” Jack let out a breath. “I don’t know if it’s me-me, or Hod-me that let it get so far out of control. Everything was such a mess…”

“And Kent was there,” Bitty said, edging toward a conversation he knew they needed to have, but he didn’t want to push Jack.

There was a silence, then Jack held him a little tighter. “Kent is Loki.”

“Loki,” Bitty repeated.

Jack shrugged. “It’s not…like the films, you know. Those comic book movies. He’s nothing like that. And it’s not…it isn’t the same. He’s not all god, just like I’m not, just like you won’t be. But he’s enough of Loki that he…has a hard time controlling it. I was an easy target. Hod’s always been an easy target.”

Bitty felt bad for never reading up on it, but he’d been so fixated on his own upcoming transformation it had slipped his mind.

Jack, however, didn’t seem to mind. “In the original myths, Hod’s a blind god, and Loki manipulated him into killing Baldur. Used his blindness against him. It was supposed to be a prank—not good natured but…” Jack tailed off with a sigh. “Loki knows Hod’s weak spots. His…blindness.”

“Your anxiety,” Bitty said softly.

Jack nodded. “It’s always something, I think. I don’t…I don’t know a lot about who was Hod before me, but there’s a good chance the Loki before Kent hurt him, too. It’s what we do.” Jack hesitated. “The human side of me cared about him. We were friends, we understood each other in ways that other people couldn’t. Because of who we were. I think we tried to fight it—our nature, what we were to each other, but it was inevitable. Kent hasn’t quite accepted that yet.”

“The things he said to you…” Bitty replied, his voice going quiet as he pushed up to look at Jack.

“Nothing I didn’t expect. He still has ways in, past my defences. I’ve been…trying to be more careful.”

Bitty touched Jack’s cheek, the tips of his fingers pushing in just slightly against the cool skin. “You’ve got me now.”

Jack smiled. “I have.” He wrapped his arms round Bitty, and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

*** 

The summer passed too quickly, and Bitty wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to deal with walking into the haus with his new knowledge. Jack didn’t push Bitty into telling the others what he knew, but it was the first night alone with Rans sat in the back with their legs over the porch, sipping on shitty beer that it all just sort of slipped out.

“Do you like being Apollo?”

Rans gave him a long look before he shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be better. It’s a fucking-lot sometimes, Bits. But there’s family here. All of us, you know?”

“I know,” Bitty confessed. “What…what’s it like? Loving Holtzy the way you do? He’s sort of your opposite, isn’t he?”

Rans laughed. “I guess? I mean, we make it work. Maybe it’s the fact that we are so different, we kind of even each other out? Like meeting in the middle, he’s frozen, and I’m burning, and then together we make it all just right. Like fucking Goldilocks and the three bears shit. You know what I mean?”

Bitty closed his eyes and thought of Jack, and he couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah. I think I know exactly what you mean.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'm going to make this a series, so I can do a bit on the Frogs, and some on Rans and Holster, and even Kent (who I HC that as Loki, the only way he'll actually find contentment in a relationship is with a human without god powers--insert Swoops). Anyway I had a lot of fun with this, even if it was a bit silly.

Jack burst through the door, his knees quaking a little as he rushed up the stairs. Ransom was at the top, holding Jack firmly back with a hand. “Let me…”

Rans pulled his hand away, but didn’t move. “He’s not really coherent, okay. And he’s really, really hot, but I don’t think that’s abnormal for him.”

“Is that what you went through?” Jack demanded.

Ransom shrugged. “Bro, I was like, so schwasted the week of my birthday. I might have, but I remember like, two percent of it. And you were there.”

“I avoided it, mostly,” Jack confessed. “I just…I don’t think I…went through all of this.”

“Holtzy thinks it’s part stress. Because you know, telling his parents, and that didn’t…”

 

“Go so well,” Jack finished, sighing. He leant against the banister and pushed his forehead against the wall. The haus no longer felt like home, but it also didn’t feel like he was a stranger here, the way he felt most places. And it was probably best for Bitty to be in his room instead of at his parents’, the way he’d originally planned.

The whole thing had been set up for disaster, Jack knew, and he knew Bitty wasn’t entirely in his right mind when he decided to come out to his parents, but he also wouldn’t be stopped. Jack was just grateful he’d done it before flying to Georgia, or things might have been far more complicated.

The month leading up to Bitty’s birthday had been fraught with arguments, binge-drinking, law-breaking, and Bitty’s libido was through the roof. Jack had been gently pushing away his advances, knowing Bitty wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to make that choice, but it left a tension between them, Bitty thinking Jack didn’t want him, and thinking Jack was changing his mind.

No matter what Jack had tried to say or do, things just got worse and worse.

Then, the week before Bitty’s birthday, he’d called his parents up late in the night, and confessed. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to do it, and it was only when the haus temperature skyrocketed to a hundred and twenty Fahrenheit that someone went to check on him.

They found Bitty curled up with Senor Bun and his phone pressed to his chest, his face buried in a pillow, voice hoarse from screaming into it. Holster held him tight while Rans texted Jack, but the roadie had taken him for the last stretch of games before playoffs, and he wasn’t due to be back until…

Well, right now, in fact.

“It’ll be over soon,” Jack mumbled, and pushed past Ransom to Bitty’s door. The handle was searing hot, and he was grateful heat didn’t affect him the way it did most people as he grabbed it, hearing a slight hiss as he turned the metal knob and stepped in.

Bitty was in his bed, the mattress bare, sheets and blankets likely soaked through. It was like a sauna, like Bitty was a small pot of coals in the centre of the room, omitting oppressive heat. Jack swiped his hand over his brow, and his heart clenched when Bitty gave a pitiful moan, curling up on his side.

“Hey bud,” Jack said softly as he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. He brushed his fingers along Bitty’s fringe, ignoring the blazing heat pouring off his forehead. “Can you open your eyes and look at me?”

Bitty mumbled something, and one dark, red-rimmed eye peered open and fixed on Jack’s face. “M’I dreamin’?”

Jack chuckled, brushing his fingers fully into Bitty’s hair. “No, chéri. I just got back into Providence, and I drove straight here.”

Bitty let out another whimper, curling up tighter, and shuffling closer to Jack’s thigh. He somehow managed to push his head into Jack’s lap, Jack shifting so Bitty could nuzzle into his lower stomach. “M’sorry.”

“For what?” Jack asked, frowning slightly.

“Being such a shit, being a disaster, falling apart,” Bitty said. He nosed against Jack’s t-shirt until it rucked up, and he pressed his hot face against Jack’s cool belly. “This feels good.”

Jack chuckled, and breathed out as he gathered cold into his fingertips. He brushed them along the back of Bitty’s neck, down between his shoulder blades, smiling a little wider at Bitty’s contented sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Bitty shook his head, sniffled, and Jack felt searing-hot tears dripping onto his skin. Bitty quickly swiped them away. “They said…they…” He let out a shaking breath. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, they’d be…at least a little happy, that I’m happy. Momma seemed…okay for a minute, you know? Then Coach started goin’ on about how my blood makes me different enough, why I gotta choose something like this to go along with it?” Bitty’s head popped up, his jaw tense, eyes narrow and angry. “It…I mean I chose you, Jack, but I didn’t…I didn’t choose any of this and…”

Jack quickly cupped Bitty’s cheeks in his hands, willing him to cool down, willing him to get some sort of comfort from Jack’s touch. “I know. Chéri, I know it’s not a choice, and in time, they’ll probably understand that.”

“They shouldn’t need time,” Bitty spat, pushing up to his knees and climbing fully into Jack’s lap. “I’m their son. I’m their son, and they shouldn’t need time to decide if they’re going to accept me or not.”

Jack closed his eyes, pushed Bitty’s face into the crook of his neck, then held him. “I know,” he murmured. “It isn’t fair, and it’s going to hurt, and everything you’re feeling…you have every right to feel it. But you’re not alone, okay? Everyone under this roof is family, they all…they all know what it’s like. At least on some level. You’re going to be okay.”

“It’ll stop, right?” Bitty asked, his voice small and pained. “After my birthday, it won’t feel so…”

“It’ll stop,” Jack vowed. He didn’t mean the pain from his parents, the feeling of rejection and hopelessness. But the chaos of accepting your god, of letting it meld with you, become part of you, that would ease up, and it would become his nature.

Jack was afraid, of course. Because with him and Kent it had been bad before they had fully become who they are, and now it was volatile and terrifying and ugly. And Bitty and Jack’s natures were so different, so opposite. And sometimes it felt like that gave him balance, and sometimes it felt like Bitty was so bright, and so warm, Jack would never be able to reach him.

But crisse, he loved Bitty so much, more than he’d ever loved anything in his entire life. And he planned to work for it, and fight for it, as hard as he needed to so he didn’t lose this.

“Come with me to Providence,” Jack murmured.

Bitty’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “But…”

“Your birthday is in three days, and it’s likely to get a little worse before it gets better. I want to be there for you. I want to take care of you.”

Bitty gnawed on his lower lip, likely contemplating missing classes—which he’d miss anyway—and being alone when Jack was at the rink. But apart from practise, Jack would be home, and with Bitty, and taking care of him until this passed, and things settled.

So in the end it was an easy decision for Bitty to nod, and to touch Jack’s cheek, then kiss him before hopping up to pack his stuff for the trip. Ransom and Holster seemed a little dubious about the trip, but Lardo came out, quietly hugging both Bitty and Jack and said, “Trust me, it’ll be better for him this way.”

The Captains relaxed a little, and promised to check in, and promised to visit if Bitty needed them.

Then, in the dark, deep May night, Jack and Bitty drove to Providence to weather the worst of the storm.

*** 

Bitty wasn’t sure what to expect, the morning he turned twenty-one. Since knowing what he was, what he would become, and the process that should have come with it, he’d been unprepared for the rejection from his family. He was supposed to be at home, in his bed, and the next morning he would have woken early, had coffee, and learnt everything he could learn from his moomaw—the goddess of Spring.

Instead he was in Jack’s bed, alone because Jack had an early morning skate, and his insides felt like someone had doused him in freezing water. His skin was still burning, but not nearly as bad as it had been earlier. He felt like he’d run a hundred miles—his limbs aching and heavy, and even turning onto his stomach to reach for his phone was a chore.

But he did it, and smiled when he saw Jack’s name on the screen.

**I’ll bring something for breakfast. Happy birthday, bud. I love you so much.**

Bitty was half sure if it hadn’t been for Jack, he wouldn’t have survived the process. The emotional pain of rejection—even one he’d half expected coming from his parents—had been enough that he felt like fire was going to consume him. Jack being too far away too touch, and too busy to call, had made it so much worse.

But now, laying here in his bed as a warmth descended over him, sinking into his limbs, he felt calm. He was surrounded by the scent of him, a lingering chill in the air, and he couldn’t help but smile. He closed his eyes and pictured Jack the night before, his skin tinged white-blue as he puckered his lips and blew air so cold, flakes appeared around them as he tried to bring Bitty’s temperature down.

They’d kissed then, and it felt like kissing in winter—outside in a blizzard, Jack’s frozen hands pushing into his warm hips. It was so much. It was everything. Bitty wanted to hold on and never let go, and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to get on with any sort of normal life after this.

He knew Jack was afraid of what might come, and he understood it, in a way. Kent, being who he was, and being what he was to Jack. They had tried to push back against what history had written for them, and nothing they had done had worked.

So what would become of Frey and Hod? Spring and Winter? Light and Darkness?

He was dialling up Ransom before he even realised he was doing it, and though it was far too early in the morning for anyone in the haus to be properly awake, he answered. “Everything okay?”

Bitty stretched. “Yeah,” he said through a slight groan, trying to work the ache out of his arms. “I mean, I feel like I got hit by a truck, but better than I was, you know?”

Ransom gave a sleepy laugh, and in the background he could hear Holster’s tired murmur. “Shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. It’s just Bitty, and no he’s not dead.” There was more shuffling, then a door shutting before Ransom came back on the line. “Do you feel different?”

Bitty rolled onto his back, lifting his hand to flex his fingers in the sunlight. “I guess? I mean, I’m not even sure what was supposed to happen, you know? I kind of pictured some halo of light or something?”

Ransom laughed. “Bro, it’s not like fucking Shrek, ascending into the sky or anything. At least, that’s now how I remember it, even if I was schwasted beyond recognition.”

“Were…your powers different right away?” Bitty asked.

“Mm. Like…I guess? A little? It was almost like getting used to a new limb, but it wasn’t like I could walk through a crowd and just randomly pull a Jesus and heal the sick and wounded. It took a lot of practise.”

“I don’t even know what…I’m for. What I do,” Bitty said.

Ransom hummed. “Then looks like on top of the rest of your homework which you’re like…way behind on, you have some research to do.”

Bitty groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. “I’m a damn god. I should be exempt.”

“Tried that once, and the professor just said, ‘I’ve heard better,’ then docked me ten points for the late paper. Anyway just try and chill today. Get Jack to give you some of his sweet lovin’, eh?”

“Can you not like…ever say that to me again?” Bitty said as he arched his back against the mattress. He was starting to feel more human—though he wasn’t sure he could use that term anymore. “And also maybe if you could put together a powerpoint—God 101 or something? Because I feel lost.”

“Of course I can. Take care and we’ll have an epic b-day thing for you as soon as you get back, okay?”

“Thanks,” Bitty said, then rang off and let his phone drop to the mattress. A shower sounded good right about then, but so did a nap, and the latter was winning.

*** 

Bitty woke to cool lips, pressing kisses to his temple, to his cheeks, softly at each corner of his mouth. With a groan, he stretched, his hand reaching, seeking, curling round the back of Jack’s neck and tugging him close. “Time’s it?”

“Noon,” Jack said. He spread his fingers wide, drawing them up under Bitty’s threadbare t-shirt. “Have you been up at all?”

Bitty shifted over so Jack could spread out next to him, and he shuffled as close as he could get, curling into Jack’s embrace. “Mm, for a minute. Talked with Rans. Thought about a shower, but sleep was so nice. I’m just…so exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jack’s fingers threaded through Bitty’s hair, drifting in and out of sweat-soaked locks. “You should get up, though. I brought pastries and coffee.”

“Oh, sweetpea. Have I told you I loved you today?” Bitty asked, turning his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Jack’s chin.

Jack chuckled. “You might have, it’s been a bit of a blur. Have I told you happy birthday?”

Bitty laughed gently and nodded. “In a text.”

“Well let me tell you in person, then,” Jack murmured, and gripped Bitty by his chin, kissing him soft, slow, drawing it out and out until Bitty was breathless and his toes were curling. “Happy Birthday, chéri. I love you.”

Bitty’s grin felt like it would split his face down the middle. He couldn’t fathom how he’d got so lucky, what he’d managed to do so right that he got this, for however long he was able to keep it. And though the fear was still there, resting with his anxiety at the base of his spine, he felt content, and loved, and safe. And he felt like he could look over the expanse of eternity and feel like this would never, never end.

*** 

_@omgcheckplease: Who knew twenty-one would be so transformative. Life, love, does it get better than this?_

_@kentparson liked your tweet_

*** 

“Parse knows.” Bitty stared at his phone screen, then across the table at Jack who was cutting into chicken. When Jack looked up, Bitty saw curiosity in his eyes, but not fear, and not regret. “He favourited my tweet. He’s not following me, which means…which means he looked for me. Or can other gods like…tell when another one turns twenty-one?”

Jack shrugged. “I had no idea. I was fairly unsure about you, even though Johnson insisted. It wasn’t until you moved into the haus that I really believed it.”

Bitty huffed, and kicked Jack under the table, but he was grinning all the same. “Rude. But since I love you so much, I’ll forgive you.”

Jack smiled. “You’re being awfully sweet today.”

With a shrug, Bitty reached for his wine, taking a sip. “I feel…different. Not…not unlike myself, just…”

“Complete?” Jack offered.

Bitty’s mouth quirked at the corners. “Yes,” he said very slowly. “I…reckon it’s that. But something else.”

Jack raised a brow. “Something else.”

“Well, I’ve got this gorgeous boyfriend, who loves me a whole lot, and…a life ahead of me, you know? Like whatever else is out there—I have this. I mean…if you want me.”

Jack was up, and moving round the table, and pulling Bitty into his arms before Bitty could really react. “I want you,” Jack said, his lips moving against Bitty’s neck. “Please never doubt, never—for a second—that I don’t.”

*** 

And life went on. Ransom and Holster made a calendar marking off when the Frogs would turn twenty-one. Each of them were aware—each of them had been prepped and coached the way Bitty hadn’t, so Bitty took comfort in knowing they wouldn’t suffer the way he had.

Jack and him remained strong. When Bitty met Bob properly—spending New Years in Montreal with the Zimmermann’s, he was treated to a real winter, with two winter gods. It was different, and it was strange, but it was welcoming and wonderful too.

Alicia, who was human, found the whole thing amusing, quietly grinning at both Bitty and Jack over her wine glass as they ate.

Later in the night, she came down for a cup of tea, and found Bitty nursing hot chocolate, staring out the window at the expanse of white snow which was still falling. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, sliding up next to Bitty on one of the stools.

Bitty shrugged. “Sometimes in the winter, it’s hard for me. It feels like…I’m stuck in a closet or something.” He sighed, then sipped at his drink. “Is it them? The snow?”

Alicia laughed. “In a way, I think it is. They’re winter gods, so I think all winter comes from them. It’s when they’re the most alive. Though I will say, I’ve never seen Jack so lit up than he is with you, Eric.”

Bitty flushed, shrugging. “I’m sure it’s not…I mean I’m just, you know, me.”

“Exactly,” she said, and gave his cheek a fond pat. “There were days I researched for hours on end, not sleeping, to see if I could take it from him. Hod. To see if I could free him of everything because if I could just get rid of one burden, just one, he might not…” She trailed off, her eyes getting a little misty. “But he came back from it, stronger, more determined.”

“He’s dedicated to his work,” Bitty agreed.

She hummed, but shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…well yes, he’s Jack and lord knows what my son would be if he wasn’t about hockey but…” She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. “He was determined to find something that made him feel...like it wasn’t always winter. We worried, of course, that he’d find his way back to Kent, and then…he introduced you.”

Bitty felt his face flush hot. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed.

She laughed quietly and shifted over, squeezing him in a half-hug. “Oh my. You’re so…are you always this warm?”

Eric laughed. “Fraid so. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, and lord knows it’s nice sometimes to curl up against something cool.” He hesitated, then said, “Is it like that with you and Bob?”

She smiled at him as she shrugged. “He had a hard time controlling it when he was younger, made dating difficult. By the time we met, he was able to regulate a little better. We have a lot of duvets though,” she added with a wink, and Bitty laughed. “When I finally accepted what he was—who he was—it took some adjustment. I wasn’t always sure I’d be worthy of being the wife of a god—seemed wrong that he’d choose me. But he’s never made me feel less.”

“Yeah,” Bitty breathed. “I mean, I guess I’ll never understand that, but I do know what it feels like to know you’ve been chosen. In spite of…everything. You’re still chosen.”

Alicia leant over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for choosing him back.”

*** 

Bitty threw his head back, laughing as Jack held his hands, spinning him gently at centre ice. Graduation day was looming, and beyond that—everything. He wasn’t sure yet, he was still trying to work out how to be Frey, and be Bitty, and marry the two into one person, but he was working on it.

For now, he was comforted by the fact that in a few days, he’d step into an apartment, and climb into a bed, and Jack would be there beside him. And apart from roadies, when Bitty went to bed at night, Jack would be there. And he’d half-wake each morning with cool kisses along his neck as Jack said goodbye before his morning skate.

And then…

Everything. Nothing. Whatever he wanted to do with his life.

He didn’t know yet, but none of that mattered. What mattered now was Jack’s palm pressed against his own. What mattered now was being softly checked into the boards, and Jack’s firm front pressed against his own, and lips dipping low to press against his. What mattered now was feeling the other heart, beating in sync with his, and knowing it would be that way, for as long as the universe allowed it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on tumblr, for anyone who didn't know (multi-fandom, mostly fic posting) [angryspace-ravenclaw](https://angryspace-ravenclaw.tumblr.com)
> 
> Everyone and their corresponding God: (side-note, mythos can conflict heavily so just know there is plenty of conflicing information about each god, which is why I'm keeping it simple).
> 
> Jack- Hod (Norse- winter)  
> Bitty- Frey (Summer, prosperity, life/fertility)  
> Shitty- Dionysus (Greek, wine, rituals, theatre)  
> Lardo- Bastet (Egyptian- Wisdom, creativity)  
> Ransom- Apollo (Greek- prophesy, healing)  
> Holster- Hades (Greek- Dead)  
> Nursey-Enki (Sumerian- Poetry, creativity, wisdom)  
> Dex- Nodens (Celtic- Fishing)  
> Kent-Loki (Norse- Fire, mischief)  
> Chowder- Osiris (Egyptian- death and resurrection, transition, regeneration)  
> Johnson- Mimir (Norse- Oracle)  
> Bob- Boreas (Greek- winter)  
> Moomaw- Aine (Irish- wealth, summer)


End file.
